


loving you is like a song I replay

by inkvows



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Long-Distance Relationship, Louis and Harry are Extremely Sappy, M/M, Rather fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 10:58:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4017202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkvows/pseuds/inkvows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Only a few more days before Louis' flight to Los Angeles, and then practically a month of sunshine and Harry. He can make it. They always make it.</p>
<p>...</p>
<p>Set at the beginning of the OTRA break. Harry is in Los Angeles, Louis is in London. They FaceTime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	loving you is like a song I replay

**Author's Note:**

> One of several one shots I've started over the last few months and am slowly finishing. The title is from "Turn Your Lights Down Low" by Bob Marley and Lauryn Hill.

The lights are dim when Louis wanders in the bedroom, hair damp and water droplets still clinging to his skin from the shower. It’s past four in the morning, and he’s exhausted, but it’s been a good day. He spent most of it in the studio writing with the guys, and he’s so excited about what this next album could mean for them. It’s a process every time, and he’d be a liar if he said he could predict the outcome. But maybe, he hopes, this will be a turning point.  
  
Louis pulls on a t-shirt from the stack in the back of the closet. He’s swimming in it; it’s an old one of Harry’s, ratty and worn from going through the wash so many times, but that’s precisely why Louis loves it. He’d wear it out if he didn’t know Caroline would give him shit for it.  
  
He’d brought a full sleeve of biscuits upstairs before he got in the shower, and he picks them up from the nightstand as he crawls into the middle of the king-size bed that normally sleeps two. Club nights are easier in a lot of ways. There's a formula to it: the lads and a few drinks and a pap walk, and then it’s back in the car where he can resume texting Harry, before heading straight to bed and crashing for the night. He gets to puff out his chest for a few minutes, just long enough to walk to the car, usually spouting off some of the pent up aggression he’s built up toward the media over the last five years. The days of having his tongue held for him are numbered, and dwindling fast.  
  
Getting comfortable, Louis builds himself a mountain of pillows to lean up against and leans over the bed for the charging cable. He ends up accidentally knocking the sleeve of biscuits onto the sheets open ended, muttering a quiet _fuck_ as he brushes the crumbs away, making a mental note to have the sheets washed before he leaves for Los Angeles.  
  
(He’ll forget, of course, and the next time they’re home together Harry will gently reprimand him, teasing and dimpling as he coerces Louis to help him change the bedding, and Louis will only semi reluctantly help, but mostly he'll hinder, ending up starfished in the middle of the bed until Harry wraps him up and straddles his hips, pinning him down with a kiss. It’s been known to happen.)  
  
Right now, though, Louis is alone in their bedroom, sinking down against the pillows with his phone plugged in and propped against his legs as he pulls out a biscuit, resulting in more crumbs. He doesn't need to check the world clock anymore, knows it's only nearly nine in LA. Harry is either in bed already or still out with friends, probably playing charades or planning his next Instagram post.  
  
Louis is thumbing through the camera roll on his own phone when a text notification shows up at the top of the screen. Of course it’s from Harry.  
  
_still up?_  
  
Louis sinks lower under the covers, curling up on his side as he holds the screen closer to his face and switches apps.  
  
_how'd u kno?_ he texts back, not even bothering to hide his grin. No one can see him here in their bed; there are no curtains, no closets, no smoke and mirrors. Just the love and happiness he always feels when it comes to Harry.  
  
_you texted the group ten minutes ago_  
  
Oh. Right. He did do that.  
  
The group is the group text with all the boys, Zayn included. They've got another without him for work related things, but their dumb group text is the same as ever, used for YouTube links and reaction gifs and shit talking the people who have screwed them over. (There have been stretches of silence, tension hanging heavy even in the virtual space, but nobody has left the group yet, and that has to mean something.)  
  
On the way home, Louis had sent a vine he'd seen on tumblr. He probably spends more time on tumblr than he should, or that he'd be advised to, but he doesn't care. He likes seeing what the fans are up to. They're clever, and funny, and he likes that. They keep him grounded. Harry had been the only one to respond; everyone else was most likely asleep.  
  
_FaceTime?_ is the next text, and Louis can barely start sending back the frog and banana emojis before his screen freezes for just a second as Harry's FaceTime call comes through. He answers.  
  
"Heeeeey, Boo," Harry says, grainy image of his face shadowed by an overhead light. It looks like he's in the kitchen. His hair is wet.  
  
"Hey, Curly. How was your day?" Louis feels a familiar warmth pooling in his stomach, the kind he always feels when talking to Harry, or being around Harry, or just _thinking_ about Harry.  
  
"Quiet, mostly. Saw James and Chelsea again. Just went for a swim. Writing with Gary tomorrow. You finish another song today?"  
  
"Yeah, it's going really fast this time. I had a lot of that one we started in Dubai- Julian loved it."  
  
"You showed it to him?"  
  
"Course. Liam loved it too. I think he's already arranging the production in his head."  
  
"You gonna sing lead again?"  
  
Louis is quiet for a moment, watching himself watch Harry watch him in the corner of his phone screen. He's grown more confident in his voice, sure, but not every song is meant for him vocally. He gets that. He must be quiet for too long, because Harry pulls him gently from his thoughts.  
  
"Lou?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Miss you."  
  
There's a tug in Louis' chest. Their songwriting talk can wait. "Miss you more, babycakes."  
  
"Naked sunbathing isn't the same without you."  
  
Louis barks out a laugh. "Do you really miss me or do you just miss my arse?"  
  
"Mostly you. Definitely also your bum though."  
  
Louis misses seeing those dimples in person, running his hands through Harry's hair. He shifts in bed, dull ache filling up his heart. Only a few more days before his flight to Los Angeles, and then practically a month of sunshine and Harry. He can make it. They always make it.  
  
"Gonna eat you out soon as you get here," Harry mumbles, and he's moved into their living room now, onto the couch, the light from the TV flickering shadowy blue hues across his face. He unconsciously licks his lips like he's already thinking about it.  
  
Louis groans. "Oh really?"  
  
"Mmhmm," Harry responds, but his eyes are closed and he's biting his lip, and Louis knows what he's up to.  
  
"Really, Haz? Just from my voice?"  
  
Harry doesn't respond, and Louis doesn't expect him to. He watches Harry’s look of pinched concentration for a moment before asking, mouth dry, "How many fingers?" He’s only a little surprised at the low rasp of his own voice.  
  
Harry keens, his breath picking up. "Nngh- th-... three."  
  
"Already?"

"I uh... in the pool..."  
  
"Harold!" Louis squawks. Harry squints at Louis through the screen.  
  
"You know it's my favorite," he pouts, voice low and a little strained. It’s true, Harry’s quite fond of getting off in the pool. He claims it’s something about the sunshine and the smell of chlorine, but Louis knows it’s because he’s got this weird siren fantasy of luring his lovers to their death (lovers, of course, being Louis and only Louis, and death being le petit mort. He fancies himself a sexy merman, is what it is. Louis is utterly endeared.)  
  
"I know, love. I know. Couldn't forget it."  
  
Louis is just beginning to lose himself in the sight of Harry’s blissed-out face, slack-jawed and panting on his phone screen, when he hears a distant banging sound crackling over the line. Harry doesn’t notice, his face contorting in concentration.  
  
“Love?” Louis says, noting the chimes ringing in the background on Harry's end. Harry is squeezing his eyes shut now, like he's trying to block it out. “Love, is that the door?”  
  
Reluctantly, Harry sighs. “Fuck,” he swears. Louis’ screen goes black for a minute, Harry putting the phone face down somewhere. When he picks it up again, he sets it in his lap, giving Louis a view of his chin and up his nose as he wipes his fingers off on a tissue. “It’s Jeff,” he says, and his voice sounds wrecked. Louis smirks. Harry tosses the tissue to the side and holds the phone in front of his face properly. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes still look glassy. “Forgot we made plans. Fancy saying hi?”  
  
“Nah. Flip him off on my behalf for ruining the moment. And pull yourself together, lad, you look well fucked.”  
  
Harry flushes, but his face is nothing but smug as he gets up off the couch. “You know I get off on people knowing when we’ve-”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, alright. Love you like hell, H.”  
  
“Love you like heaven. Get some sleep.”  
  
They hang up after that, and Louis is still smiling to himself, even if the call didn’t end exactly how he predicted.  
  
He drops his phone onto the nightstand, sliding down the pillows and stretching out his limbs like a starfish. He blinks tiredly up at the ceiling, exhaustion washing over him in waves now that he hasn’t got Harry as a distraction. He _wishes_ he still had Harry as a distraction. He knows all the promo he’s doing is for the greater good, the bigger picture. He’s excited about his new projects, about working with Jack and getting the girls launched, planning fundraisers for Eden and scheduling the next charity match with the Rovers. He’s weary about the next leg, but he’s ready to move on with the tour, to move on with the next chapter of the band. And his own future. The songs they’ve already got down sound great, and he’s proud of himself and his boys. There are fresh wounds, of course, but Louis Tomlinson has always been one to roll with the punches. He's always had to, even if that means occasionally punching back. And he's got it all really; he's got it all, and most importantly, he’s got Harry.  
  
Louis stretches out on his side, facing the French doors that lead out onto their balcony. They look out onto the massive private yard on their property, which is part of the reason why Harry insists on never pulling the curtains. Louis is convinced had he not auditioned for the X-Factor and ended up in a multimillion-dollar, world famous boyband, Harry would have joined a nudist colony by now.  
  
The sky is starting to lighten with the foggy greyish glow that prefaces a sunrise, and Louis groans internally. He needs to sleep. He’s been awake for nearly twenty four hours, nowhere near a record, but he’s exhausted. And he misses Harry. Those two things are possibly the worst combination for Louis. Which is what gives him the idea.  
  
Rolling back toward the nightstand, Louis picks up his phone again, and opens the music app. He saved the recording of Harry in Dubai to a playlist of demos. It’s rough, maybe a minute and thirty seconds of Harry singing and playing guitar. They talked about Louis singing lead on this one, and truth be told he wouldn't mind, but there's just something about listening to Harry sing it. He’s singing the words they wrote _together_ , just the two of them, and it makes Louis' heart swell. So far it’s another homage to heartachingly deep love, and it wouldn’t be a song about the two of them if there wasn’t a least one cheeky reference to marking each other up. Julian just rolled his eyes when he heard it; he’s come to expect it from them at this point.  
  
Louis scrolls through the playlist, tapping the Dubai recording with his thumb. He puts the track on repeat and turns the volume all the way up on Harry's gentle strumming, and rolls back over to face the French doors. He's over on Harry's side of the bed now, close enough he can smell the shampoo scent clinging to Harry's pillow. He presses his nose into the pillowcase, breathing in Harry's scent as Harry's voice, low and gentle, joins the strumming. And that's all he needs.  
  
He rubs a hand over his chest, feeling his nipples harden under Harry's old t-shirt. He fingers the shirt collar for a minute, wondering if he should strip off completely, but Harry starts crooning about his deepest love on the recording, and Louis instantly banishes the thought. He's in his home, the home he made with Harry, breathing in the scent of Harry on the pillows and sheets on the bed they sleep in together. He's wearing an old shirt Harry has had since he was seventeen. He feels safe, in this moment, even with Harry thousands of miles away.  
  
It doesn't take long once Louis trails a hand down his abdomen and gently wraps his fingers around his dick.  
  
"Unhhh," he breathes out, the feeling of a hand on his cock a relief. He thinks of Harry earlier, his face completely blissful with three fingers in his arse, so close to a release when they were interrupted. Louis knows where their night would have gone, Harry fingering himself until he finds his prostate, shifting the phone to give Louis a better view of how hard he is, pearls of precome dribbling down his cock.  
  
_Fuck me, Lou,_ Harry would say, shuffling around on the couch to try and show Louis his hole. Louis begins to breathe faster at the mental image. He needs lube.  
  
Still tucked between the pillows is the bottle from last night. He pulls Harry's t-shirt up, bunching the hem around his chest, before squeezing way too much lube into his palm. He reaches behind himself with his dry hand, tracing down his crack with a finger as he gets his palm around his cock. He pulls himself off quickly, the slide effortless with the amount of lube he's using. Louis comes just as the song starts again, semen spurting into his hand and onto the sheets.  
  
Louis gives himself a moment to catch his breath, for the ringing in his ears to settle and for Harry's voice to come back into focus. He presses his face deeper into Harry's pillow chest heaving as he comes down, a low whine in the back of his throat.  
  
Once he's managed to catch his breath he flips over onto his stomach. His cock is still sensitive, trapped between the weight of his body and the sheets, so he lifts himself onto his knees slowly. He reaches behind himself with his wet hand this time, arse splayed the way he knows drives Harry wild, and he rubs his fingers over his hole, mixed come and lube getting him dirtier than he's been since Harry left for Los Angeles.  
  
He's still loosened up from last night, when he fingered himself after coming home from the club. It's only a few seconds before he has two fingers inside himself, reaching desperately in search of his prostate, fucking back onto each digit as tiny jolts of pleasure zip through his body. It takes the third finger before he can find it, and after that it's only a second before he comes again, his release harder this time.  
  
He lowers himself back onto the mattress, rolling over onto his side. He can smell the sweat and come in the air, mingling with the perfumed scent of Harry's favorite candles. He pulls his fingers out of his arse, wiping off the mess on the sheets. Biscuit crumbs be damned; these sheets will definitely need to be changed before he leaves for LA.  
  
The track repeats for a second time, and that finally gets Louis to open his eyes. The sun is rising now, the orangey pinkish glow spilling through the windows and onto the carpet. If Louis walked out onto their balcony right now, he could feel the dew in the air, see it clinging to the lawn.  
  
He doesn't get up though. Instead, he blinks at the doors to their balcony once more before rolling over away from the light, eyelids drifting shut as the exhaustion finally takes over his body. He falls asleep to the sound of Harry's voice, grasping the front of the old t-shirt in his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! : )


End file.
